


Dependence

by daniels



Series: FAHC // Remixed [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Death, Immortal FAHC, M/M, Multi, Obsession, Other, rating will change probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniels/pseuds/daniels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ Immortal FAHC.. with a twist. ]</p><p>They've never seen Gavin die. Even if the whole lot of them has died over and over, Gavin is always there to greet them with a cheery smile and some shitty instant noodles. But.. not this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> Just a quick quip before you get to reading; this idea isn't fully fleshed out, but this particular slice of life is well into my own immortal FAHC au.
> 
> Warning;  
> Be aware that this WILL have graphic violence in it, in most all the chapters. Dependence is going to be a log of Michael's temporary descent into the darkest bits of himself from here on out.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. 

Team Nice Dynamite was supposed to be something that lasted forever. It was their thing. They balanced each other out perfectly, yin and yang. Gavin was the idealist, the visionary, the one who came up with those crazy ideas that were just crazy enough to work, the shy little boy who hid himself from the public eye. Michael was the brawn, the loudmouth, the one who always got into trouble but always got the job done. 

That's how they were supposed to be. Together, forever. Until the ends of time, until the very fabric of creation unraveled. 

But it wasn't to be. 

He can't scream.  
He can't protest.  
He can't even _cry._

“ _Gavin's dead._ ”  
The words come to him upon the lips of his boss.  
“ _I'm sorry._ ” 

But the words don't make it through to the hot-headed boy. All he can see is red. So much red.  
With his pulse pounding in his ears, Michael stands up ever so slowly, staring intently at nothing. 

He can't see.  
He can't hear.  
He can't even feel.  
This is wrong.   
This is so, so wrong.

Perhaps that's why it feels so right to just pick up the gun and shoot. The gun he always tucks so neatly away, right next to his ambiguous gaming console. Not shooting at anything in particular, of course (even if it nails Geoff right in the shoulder), just an action borne of pure rage. 

“ _Michael, what the fuck—?_ ”  
Another loud crack would silence the would-be yelp. So much for leaving the messenger be.


	2. Rust

They’d met countless years ago.

Gavin had saved Michael from a rather inconvenient first death; he’d found the poor kid in a ditch on the side of the road, fists and body bloody and bruised. Nursed him back to health. Put up with all his shit while he was recovering. Even as Michael begged to be put out of his misery.

“Why would I do that?”  
He’d inquire quite frequently.  
“I don’t want to kill you.”  
“I don’t want to hurt you.”  
“I don’t want to.”

That was such an odd concept to Michael at the time.  
Someone sticking around that didn’t want some kind of thrill?  
It didn’t make any _sense._

Not that this boy made a whole lot of sense in the first place. He spouted absolute nonsense for the most part; were those even words? They certainly hadn’t been to Michael’s ears. It made him angry, for a while. Then again, there wasn’t much that didn’t make him angry. That was how he was conditioned, from a young age. Aggression was his natural response, fighting his first instinct.

This boy was far too nice to such a fucked up kid like Michael. He was nothing but a stranger. He could have easily ended Gavin’s life -- could have snapped him like a twig once he’d regained his own strength and left Gavin to die. Could have left and turned around and never thought about the boy with the bright eyes and the brighter smile ever again.  
But he couldn’t.  
He just _couldn’t._  
And it was so _fucking_ frustrating.

He got better.  
He got better in body, but not in spirit.  
He was confused, and scared, and fighting his instincts.

“I’m _broken,_ ” Michael had yelled one day, his eyes burning, fist through a wall.  
It had been a civil conversation, until Gavin brought up the past. The past. The past can _burn_  
“You’re not,” Gavin had replied.  
“Yes I _am_ you absolute fuckw--”  
“You’re not broken. And I’d be here for you even if you were.”  
“But _why!?_ ”  
“I like you.”

That was the day he had made a friend.  
That was the day he broke himself.  
Just for Gavin.


	3. Maroon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long!! i'm hoping to start getting these out faster ugh. i'd like the chapters to be longer and more descriptive but!! here we are with the first like.. really graphic chapter. have fun! :P

The week after the incident was tough on everyone -- Michael especially.

The first day after, it was all hushed jokes about how long Gavin was taking to wake up. Nobody wanted to believe that Gav was.. gone. He was such a vital part of their little gang. Fake AH wasn't the same without the bubbly little brit — and his easily-irritated time bomb of a partner by association.

At first, Michael had joined in the almost-chuckles and the mildly reassuring presence of the crew. Something had been off even from then, though. It was his fault, and he knew it. Gavin was his responsibility and.. and Michael had let him down.

It was his fault.

That night had been where everything had started to fall apart.

// Graphic! //

_Micool. Why?_

( Of course it's Gavin's voice, cooing out those two words that make Michael's blood run cold. )

_You coulda been there, Micool. Coulda done somethin'._

( That's when Michael looks up -- only to have his gaze be met with the mangled corpse of his best friend. ..It wasn't exactly a one-hit death. Blood spatters onto the floor, pooling beneath Gavin as he edges closer. One of those gorgeous eyes is missing, the hole borne into his head by some matter of blunt object seemingly bottomless; the one remaining just seems.. lifeless, lacking that old spark. His clothes cling to a frame that was once flushed with color, now pale and sapped dry of any warmth by the heavy hand of death. Even his voice sounded raw from disuse, like that time he'd caught that nasty cold..)

(Michael didn't have too much time to reminisce. Those long fingers, now hardly skin and bone, danced across his freckled cheek.)

_Micool.._

(The single eye grew hard, lips turning quickly into a sneer. Fingers gripped the redhead's jaw harshly, tugging him forward.)

_I hate you._

(He could feel the bones in his jaw break. Shattering, sending shocks through his neck and shoulders. Searing pain radiated out from his stomach, like a knife had been driven into his guts—

// End graphic! //

— and that's when he jolted awake, full upright in a fraction of a second, cold sweat pouring from his whole body, heart pounding loudly in his ears.

And that was the first time in years that Michael had cried and really meant it. His chest heaved with sobs, fingernails cutting through skin as he curled up on himself.

_It was all his fault._


	4. Brick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long!! the next chapter is going to be v gorey.

Day two would involve a rather different brand of despair. Despite the warnings thrown over the shoulders of his crewmates, Michael had a mission -- destroy. Not injure, not mutilate, _destroy_.

“Michael.”

A voice breaks through his concentration.  
He ignores it.

“Hey, buddy. Chill out for a sec, would ya?”

Michael snapped around to glare at the offending party.  
Of course it was Geoff. Geoff, the one that had been there with Gavin in his last moments. The last person Michael wanted to see.  
..His boss.  
Of fucking course. 

“What the fuck do you want?” He spat in reply, though his attention remained held away from the papers and files sprawled on his desk for the time being. With the red marks scribbled on said files, it's obvious to Geoff what his timebomb of a crewmate was planning. “I'm busy, if you couldn't tell.”

“Michael.” The voice turns more commanding this time, and the redhead can't help but break his glare -- Geoff can be a great deal intimidating if he so sees fit. And it seems as though this is one of those times. “You're not doing this.”

With a soft snort, Michael rolls his eyes. “What, you gonna stop me, old man?” The disrespect isn't new, but it bites. Michael means every bit of the venom in his voice this time around, even if he can't meet Geoff's eyes.

“..No. But I hope you stop yourself.” Geoff squares up his shoulders before letting them drop, his eyes cold as they bare into Michael's. Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “It won't bring him back. As much as we _all_ wish it could, it won't.”

For the briefest of moments, recognition seems to fade into Michael's eyes, but it doesn't last. The anger returns, just as strong, his body tensing right back up as his hands ball into fists. “Are you done yet?”

Geoff stares Michael down for another few moments, his eyes flickering to the papers before he clenches his jaw and shrugs.

“Fuck it. Whatever. Do what you want, kid. Just don't come crawling back for help when you get fucked up.” The hurt in his voice is almost tangible.

Fuck if Michael could bring himself to care right now, though. 

He has a job to do.


	5. Merlot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mogar is set loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> violence, holding at gunpoint, etc.  
> read at ur own discretion.

Day three ran red with rivers of blood, drawn from the knife of one Michael Jones.

Of course he'd tracked them down -- though Gavin might have been the brains to his brawn, Michael still had a gift for recognizing behavioral patterns. The men in question seemed to be trying to lay low.. But who could have blamed them? The Golden Boy was hardly ever more than an arms length away from Mogar, and Mogar was nothing if not violent; with an affinity toward explosives to boot. 

He'd grinned from ear to ear when he caught word of his targets' movements. Thoughts raced through his mind -- how would he kill them? Slowly, that much was for certain. Perhaps he could even torture them as a big thank you for all but mangling his best friend's body. With a low chuckle, the man had holstered a pistol ( _Gavin's_ pistol) alongside his knife.

\----- 

A shout tore through the silence, punctuated sharply with the loud bang of a gun. 

“You really wanna fuck with me?” Michael crooned, golden pistol repositioned to aim into the darkness. “I don't think now's a good time to fuck with me. Give me whoever the hell runs this shoddy operation.” 

There's a beat of silence. 

“NOW,” Michael shouted, discharging his gun into the darkness, shortly followed by a yelp.

“Alright, alright!” A voice called from the far wall. A figure emerged from the shadows, lithe, with curly hair to rival Michael's. “You've caused quite a stir here.. Mogar, is it? I really don't appreciate that.” 

“Can it, fuckface. You know damn well while I'm here,” the other Fake snarled. “Y'know, if you'd killed the Boss, I probably coulda let you slide, but you made this fight personal, Breuster.”

“Aw, how is it personal? It's not like your butt-buddy can actually die, is it?” The Hausleader quirked a brow.

The hesitation that followed was just a heartbeat too drawn-out. A look of disbelief (and perhaps fear) spread across Spunkie's features. “Oh. Well, uh. It sure was nice chatting with you, Mogar, but I have important matters to attend t-” 

The sound of Michael's gun cocking silenced the man. “You'll come with me if you know what's good for you. I could rip your body apart and let you wake up with no innards if I wanted to.” What a novel idea, he notes inwardly. Maybe he'll make good on that even if Breuster cooperates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy HELL this is overdue! Sorry this update has been so long in the making!  
> Updates should start being more regular! Stay fresh, mi amigxs!


End file.
